Page 128 of Wish Upon A Star

Jolene

Breakfast isthe last bit of slow, lazy, leisure of the day.

Westley’s first wedding day gift to me is a knee-length silk bathrobe with an embroidered monogram—featuring my married initials. I put that on, and he ushers in Frederick, the dressmaker and tailor who did my dress for our date. Behind him is my family, and there’s a chaotic reunion. I’ve seen them all every day over the past few weeks before my release from the hospital, of course. But we’re all excited, eager, happy. There’s sparkling juice and coffee and a charcuterie board, and Frederick sets up a three-panel, free-standing privacy screen, behind which I try on dress after dress, emerging to varying reactions from the women in my life. For a while, it’s just fun, the processs of trying on dresses and laughing and joking and telling stories.

But then, I try on The Dress. Sleeveless, with a deep V-neck and a bodice designed to plump and support and display me to sexy but classy effect, with a basque waist. It fits perfectly, molding to my body, feels comfortable, and makes me look like I have more curves than I do. And it’s just…me. There’s something indefinable about it that just resonates.

The moment I emerge from behind the screen, the chatter falls silent.

“That one,” Bethany breathes, her eyes wide. She brushes her hair out of her face—it’s longer than mine, now, and I hope she grows it out. I hope she never buzzes her head again. “That one is perfect.”

“I agree,” Grandma says. “That’s the dress.”

Mom, crying, just nods.

I look at Frederick—he’s tall, stout, prematurely gray hair in a voluminous pompadour, wearing a pink three-piece tuxedo and full eyeliner and mascara, and a thick graying beard. “This one, Frederick.”

His smile is bright and joyful and knowing. He winks at me. “Darling, I’ve already tailored that one for you. I knew you’d pick that one.”

“You did?” I ask. “How?”

He just shrugs, makes a demure face. “Oh, well, I’m your fairy godmother, didn’t you realize? I just know these things.”

“That’s why it fits so much better than the others,” I say.

He claps his hands. “Yup! Now, I just need to take it in a touch here…” he pinches a spot, “and let it out a little in the bust, touch up the hem a bit…” He’s already calculating. “Okay, off with it, darling. I need to make it perfect. Chloe!”

Chloe arrives, then, her head freshly shaved, wearing an incredible crimson gown that hugs her figure and displays her legs. She embraces me tightly. “You work quick don’t you, honey? He put a ring on it already!”

I just grin as I release her. “I’m so glad to see you, Chloe.”

She runs her fingers through my hair, now long enough that I have to actually style it. “You have to let me do your hair for you. It’s growing out so nicely! I bet it’s gonna be thick and amazing, once it’s longer.”

“I wouldn’t let anyonebutyou do my hair,” I say.

She winks. “Good answer, hon.”

The next couplehours are occupied with hair and makeup, fitting into my dress, only to have Frederick demand one last adjustment. My dad arrives, wearing a classic tuxedo and looking as dashing as ever—he’s tearful, and gamely choking it back.

“See, Dad?” I say, patting his cheek. “I told you I’d be fine. Nothing to worry about.”

He laughs. “Is that an exact quote?”

“Yes. I distinctly remember telling you I was going to make a miraculous recovery and get married to a movie star the day after getting out of the hospital. Didn’t I tell you that?”

He just huffs. “Yeah, I remember that, now that you mention it.”

I hold his gaze. “Do we have your blessing, Dad?”

He blinks up at the ceiling. “Yes, honey. You do. The whole thing has been highly unorthodox and weird and I would never have in a million years predicted any of this. But it’s clear as the nose on my face that that man loves you something fierce. And you love him back. And I’m just—” he breaks off, tries again. “I’m just so grateful that you—that you’re—”

I hug him. “I know, Daddy. Me too.”

“I love you, Jo-Jo-Bean. And nothing could make me happier than to give you away to Wes.”

I poke his ribs. “You’re just glad you’re inheriting someone to talk about football and grilling with.”

He nods, tips his head to one side. “That is a bonus. I’ve been the only man in the family for a long time.”